


4x (+1)

by palalabu



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Begging, Butt Slapping, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, No Refractory Period, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palalabu/pseuds/palalabu
Summary: Until it’s Sunday night and he knows he has free reign on Lando’s body. It’s completely his. Because Lando lets him.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr
Comments: 13
Kudos: 186
Collections: Just pure filth





	4x (+1)

Carlos pins him against the door the second Lando closes it behind him, not giving him a chance to do or even think of anything else. His keycard thudding softly against the carpet in the dark.

It’s always like this with them. When their innocent play fights started to turn into cock grindings that turn into more, Carlos just can’t leave him alone. It builds up through race week. They’re professional, they can’t ruin their job with sex before races. But Carlos can’t stop touching him-- a little pat here, a squeeze there-- until it’s Sunday night and he knows he has free reign on Lando’s body. It’s completely his. Because Lando lets him. 

His head knocks against the door from the intensity of Carlos’ kiss. Lips devouring him, stubble scratching Lando’s cheeks unapologetically. He holds Lando by the wrists on either side of his head, pushing Lando against the door with his own body. And Lando could feel all of Carlos’ lean muscles--shoulder, pecs, abs--and his absolute dominance over him, rendering Lando completely useless, powerless. And they both know it’s not one Lando wants to get away from anyway, because when Carlos wedges his thigh between Lando’s, he finds Lando’s erection is already there, waiting for Carlos to grant him release. 

Lando can’t stop the whimpers he let out. Or the sad attempt to thrust his hip. Just a little. So he could give himself more desperate friction against Carlos’ thigh. But Carlos traps him tighter between the door and his body, telling him to be a good boy, without saying it. Kissing him harder, bruising his lips. And when Carlos finally directs his attention to Lando’s jaw, down his neck, he finally begs. 

“Carlos.” He got pushed even harder instead. “Fuck. Please.” It’s as if he couldn't be heard, his neck is bitten so hard it’ll leave a mark. Because Carlos knows what it does to him. Because it makes Lando want to arch his body, trying to bring himself closer to Carlos’ mouth, which he’s denied. And it gets him so impossibly hard that he’d do anything. “Anything, Carlos. Please.”

“Anything?” is asked against his skin, and Lando grabs at it, nodding frantically. “Okay, then.” 

Carlos lets go of his wrist, pulling back so he could watch Lando--curls messy, eyes blown, lips red, and the mark on his neck that would match Carlos’ teeth. And Lando shivers under the look, reaching out to Carlos, clutching on that stupid McLaren team shirt, just so he could keep himself standing. 

Carlos repositions the leg he has between Lando’s, moving his knee under Lando’s hard on so Lando is half sitting on him, almost standing on his toes and Carlos nudges him. “Go on, then.” Causing Lando to gasp. And Carlos just stands there, expecting Lando to do it for himself. 

“Come on. This is all you get to come.” He says when Lando is starting slow and unsure. Lando wants more. “This is all I will give you. Just my thigh between yours. You have to get it yourself, Lando, because I’m not touching you. I’m not gonna make you come.”

They’ve played this game so many times before. When Carlos just offers Lando the smallest help to make him come and Lando has to get it himself. And at that moment, he knows he has to take matters into his own hand. He tightens his grip on Carlos’ shoulder and starts to rub himself up against Carlos’ solid thigh, moaning just from the pathetic friction he’s getting. 

“Look at you, such a horny brat. I’m just giving you my thigh and you’re this hard.” Carlos is whispering into his ear, and Lando has to grab him tighter because even his breath is short and he’s clinging on whatever Carlos is giving him. “Is that all you can think about? Do you get hard when you see me? From across the garage? I should do this to you there one of these days, huh? I’d just pinned you against the counter and let you hump my leg right there. At the garage. Let everyone watch you.” He’d let Carlos do that. Just the thought of letting Carlos do this to him in public makes Lando rub his cock desperately harder against Carlos. “Do you want that?” He’s mewling like a pathetic teenager. But fuck. He’d let Carlos do anything. And he’s so close. “Do you want to cum in front of our team?” He’s nodding, because it’s Carlos asking. “In front of our mechanics? And cameras? So the whole world could see your pretty face when you’re screaming my name.”

Lando freezes. His whole body tightens and he’s choking on Carlos’ name. He’s coming fast and hard. In his pants, still fully clothed. And in complete realization that it’s from Carlos’ words, more than his own humping. 

Carlos doesn't even let him come down from his high before he’s flipped around facing the door. His pants are quickly unbuttoned and Carlos pushes down his trouser and lets it pool around his shoes. 

Lando is still breathing hard. Half from his climax, half from anticipation. Because he never knows what Carlos would do to him. He only knows he’d let him regardless. 

He doesn't even realize it, but the next thing he feels is Carlos’ hot breath against the small of his back. So Lando tries to turn his head to watch, but Carlos is grabbing his hip and instead, telling him, “Look to your left.” And there he finds a full length mirror covering the wall. “Good. Now watch.” 

Lando doesn't even know if it’s the order Carlos gave him or the reflection that’s strong enough to make Lando’s spent cock twitch. Because even in the dark, he can see Carlos kneels behind him, still clothed fully in their team kit, peeling Lando’s soiled boxers over his soft cock, his ass, and down his legs to join his trousers. And the way Carlos is watching the proceeding with such concentration when it’s just Lando’s ass he’s facing makes Lando want to preen and present himself to Carlos. Doesn't even matter that he’s already exposed as he is. 

“Patient,” Carlos warns him. And Carlos is so  _ so _ close Lando can almost feel his lips on his skin. 

Carlos slips his hand under Lando’s shirt and pushes the fabric higher, telling Lando to hold on to it so Carlos could have better access to Lando’s ass. And it’s all only registered somewhere in the back of Lando’s mind, because the next thing he sees in the mirror is Carlos spreading him before shamelessly burying his face between Lando’s cheeks. Tongue teasingly licking around Lando’s rim. And Lando is losing it. 

He pushes his ass against Carlos’ face and starts to chant his name. When he feels Carlos’ tongue pressing inside, he watches how he arches his back, offering himself to Carlos, and how his dick starts to get hard. Again. Fuck. He’s such a slut for Carlos. 

But there’s something very dirty about seeing himself half naked and with Carlos eating him out still in full Mclaren team gear. He can feel Carlos’ stubbles against his cheeks, his tongue wet and warm exploring his body. Lando swears he could never forget this. When he sees Carlos next time, in his uniform, this is what Lando will remember. And he’ll have a semi whenever they’re together around their team now. And that’s exactly why Carlos is doing this to him. 

“Fuck!” Lando curses when a tip of a finger teases him around his rim that Lando can’t help to thrust back. 

“I said patient.” He receives a slap against his right cheek.

“But you didn't say I can’t--”

“Is that what you want? I’m telling you exactly everything you can and can’t do.” Lando can’t stop the whimper he let out. Because that sounds brilliant. To give complete control to Carlos. Shit.  _ Shit. _ His cock is twitching just from that. “Fine. Then be a good boy. And watch.”

Carlos’ hand feels perfect on his globe, cupping and kneading. Then with his other hand, he put his index finger into his mouth, coating the whole length with saliva. And he repeats with his two other fingers. Lando wishes it’s his dick in Carlos’ mouth, having his plump lips sucking on Lando’s erection. 

“Carlos, please.” He needs him to stop teasing and start touching Lando 

“What did I say?” Carlos slaps him at that same spot, making Lando jolts, surprised. And his cock starts to leak. “How many times do I have to tell you to be patient?” Lando lets out a whimper because he knows he’s going to get punished. “Now don’t blame me if it hurts.” 

Carlos doesn't play nice anymore. Lando watches him push his index finger inside him. And it’s not enough, it’s too dry, it burns. It’s almost too painful. And Lando wants more. 

But Lando knows he’s been bad and he can’t beg anymore. So he just lets Carlos thrust into him relentlessly, and Lando could only silently scream. Until Carlos adds another one, crooking his fingers to rubs on Lando’s prostate and Lando is standing on his toes, uselessly clutching on the door to keep himself standing. 

“Carlos.” Lando is sobbing because it hurts so good. 

And when Carlos inserts the third finger, Lando starts whimpering little  _ ah ah ah _ each time Carlos hits him on the spot. His hips thrusting pathetically into nothing. He is close. His cock is curling against his abs, dripping precum into the carpet. Lando just wishes he’s allowed to come. 

“You’re shaking,” Carlos tells him. As if Lando isn't watching himself being fucked open only with dry fucking fingers. “Do you want to come?”

“Please.” It’s almost embarrassing how he’s spilling another drop of precum just from begging. But he can’t stop himself. From begging. “Please, Carlos.” Or from watching himself doing it in the mirror. 

Because it’s such a reward when Carlos finally circles his hand on Lando’s cock and watches it jerking Lando’s red, hard cock. Watching Carlos watching Lando rolling his hips back and forth desperately between pushing hard against Carlos fingers inside him and fucking himself into Carlos’ palm like a fucking whore. Like he’s being paid to perform this lewd, debauched dance. 

“Come on, Lando.” Carlos is grunting, pressing his face against the small of Lando’s back. And Lando can feel his breath, his lips, his fucking stubble on his skin. “Come on. Come for me.” He’s biting the sensitive skin there and Lando is coming. Eyes shut wide, mouth slack, caught surprised by his own climax. He can’t even scream. Just spilling ribbons of spunk into Carlos’ hand. Which keeps jerking him. Keep fucking him. Until Lando’s almost too sensitive and almost begs Carlos to stop touching him. Until Lando is slumping against the door and would’ve slid to the floor if it wasn't for Carlos holding him up by the hips. 

Carlos makes a show of licking Lando’s cum, from the base of his palm all the way to the tip of his finger. Pushes the digit into his mouth and sucks it clean. Pulling it out with a pop. And without warning, he uses the same dirty hand to hit Lando’s ass. Once. Twice. And he’s watching it jiggles. Smearing it with Lando’s own cum. And fuck. Lando’s skin is tingling just from that and he really doesn't think he could get hard again. 

Lando is still catching on his breath when he feels Carlos is unlacing his shoes and maneuvering his feet so he can take it off of Lando. Next come his trousers and boxers. So now he’s completely naked except for the shirt he’s still wearing and clutching on. 

Carlos stands up behind him. Hands rubbing circles into Lando’s hips. And along the way he already picks up the card key Lando dropped earlier and placed it on the slot, lighting up the whole room in soft gentle yellow. And now Lando can truly see how wrecked he is. Face flushed, cock spent, leaning limply against the door. While Carlos is still looking impeccable in his clothes. 

Fuck. The juxtaposition makes Lando feel filthy. 

“Can you move?” Carlos is watching him. Directly, not through their reflection. And Lando knows he’d still nod even if he wasn't. “Okay. Good.” Carlos is still rubbing his hips, and it feels like a seduction instead of soothing. “Now I want you to get inside. Take off your shirt. Fold it. Properly. And leave it on the bed.” It’s an order. And yet Carlos whispers it to him like a compliment. Like Lando is in privilege to even hear that at all. Like he should thank him for that. 

He would. He’d thank Carlos for that if he asked him to.

“Can you be a good boy and do that?” Lando bites his lips. His whimpers still escape. But he nods anyway. “Because I’m going to check it. And I want it to be folded neatly there.”

Fuck Carlos if he thinks Lando is still the same clueless 20 years old boy he first met. As if he hasn't trained Lando to be a good boy for him through the course of their relationship. 

“I’ll be good,” he answers like he knows Carlos would want to hear.

“Good. Show me.”

Lando turns with Carlos’ hands still holding him. And for the first time he sees how dark and intense Carlos’ eyes are as he watches him. It makes Lando want to push his boundary. Makes him want to see how Carlos would react as he takes off his shirt when they’re only inches apart. 

Carlos’ eyes turn impossibly darker. His jaw moving, trying to keep himself looking stern. But still Lando doesn't miss the tip of his tongue peeking out, running along his lower lip. And Lando’s chest feels tight. Knowing it’s all for him. Because of him.

Lando steps aside and leaves Carlos in the hallway. He places his white team shirt on the bed. He knows how to fold it. It’s a game Carlos loves to pull on him. Especially at the beginning of their relationship when Carlos found out how hopeless Lando could be when it comes to house chores. So they trained him. Dangling reward and punishment for every simple thing Lando could successfully do. And Lando always wants to do well for Carlos.

He is in the middle of folding one side of his shirt when he feels it. Carlos’ hard clothed cock pressing against his ass. And Lando has to stop, and curse, and fights the urge to grind back against Carlos. But he’s bending over the bed, naked, and Carlos feels so, so good that Lando can barely think. His eyes are shut tight, hearts beating against his chest. Shit. It’s Pavlovian how his dick starts to fill up just from that one point of contact. Just from Carlos’ cock pressed against him. Now he wants to be fucked like this. He wants Carlos’ cock inside of him, fucking him, like this. 

“Didn’t I tell you to fold your shirt?” And Carlos doesn't even do anything, other than just standing there, with his cock against Lando. “Looks like you’re only ruining it.”

Only then that Lando opens his eyes and sees how he’s clenching the shirt he’s supposed to fold. And how his hands, his body are trembling now, from keeping himself still.

“I can’t think,” he confesses. 

“Hm? I’m just standing here, and you can’t think?”

“Fuck! Your cock, Carlos.” Lando is desperate now, “I want your cock to fuck me,” and he shakes even harder now that he says it. He probably will shamelessly start to beg at any moment now.

“But you can’t even do what I told you--”   
  


“You’re cheating.”

“I’m cheating?” Carlos pulls Lando by the hips abruptly and his cock slides against Lando’s crack, making him gasp. “I told you to get inside and take off your shirt. But you took it off in front of me, didn’t you?” He pulls Lando even harder and now Lando’s eyes start to water from how hard and how hungry he is for Carlos’ cock. 

“Fuck me.” It comes out more like a whimper.

“But you deserve to be punished.”

“Please. No.” His cheeks are wet and pressed against the sheet. The shirt he’s supposed to fold is all crumpled under his fingers. Punishment usually means Carlos not letting him come until he’s reduced into a crying begging mess. But he already is. So he doesn't even want to imagine what Carlos has in store for him. “Carlos, please just fuck me.”

Carlos pulls him up until they’re flushed against each other. And Lando can feel all of Carlos against his nakedness. How his fingers whisper against Lando’s skin. Barely touching but definitely there. Teasing. 

“So you want this?” Carlos grinds himself against Lando. 

And Lando can feel how hard he is.

“God. Fuck. Yes. Please.  _ Please.” _

“Say it.” Carlos’ lips brushes his earlobe, and Lando is shaking so hard. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your cock.”

Yes. He wants Carlos hard fat cock.

“And how do you want it?” 

Carlos’ fingers are drawing imaginary lines on his skin.

“Inside me.” He’s sobbing. He can’t take it anymore. He catches Carlos fingers, stopping him from tormenting him even further. “Just. Fucking me.”

“And you will come?” Lando nods. Fervently. “Just from my cock.”

And so that is his punishment. He’s going to be fucked. And Carlos is not going to touch him. He’s not going to be allowed to touch himself. He’s going to come solely from Carlos’ cock pushing him to the edge. 

And fuck if Lando not going to take it. So he nods again. Begs again. 

“Get on the bed. Don't turn around.” Carlos orders him. “And for once, be a good boy.”

So Lando crawls to get on the bed and lies down on his stomach once he gets on the center of it. His wet cheeks are pressed against the bed as he waits for Carlos. And his breathing starts to pick up with anticipation when he hears the rustles of clothes, a zipper being pulled down. And finally the cap of the lube bottle being flipped open.

He can hear the filthy sound of Carlos coating himself with the lube. And there’s a shiver running down his skin just from imagining Carlos standing there, touching himself, watching Lando lying down stark naked on the bed. 

“Keep still.” Carlos warns when Lando toes and fingers start to curl just from wanting. 

Lando feels the dip on the bed as Carlos gets on it. Feels him running his hands from the sole of Lando’s feet, his ankles, along his calves, his thighs, his ass, until Lando can feel him grabbing him by the hip and the just the tip of his dick in his hole. Then, Carlos crawls up Lando’s back as he sinks into him. And then Carlos is there. On top of him. Pressing his whole body weight against Lando, fingers intertwined with Lando’s on top of the sheet, his cock so deep it’s brushing Lando’s prostate. And when Lando shuts his eyes he stars.

It’s all at once too much. 

He’s crushed against the bed. Can’t push his hips back to take Carlos deeper, can’t grind the bed to release himself. He can only lay there and starts sobbing when Carlos starts to roll his hips fast and deep inside him. Hitting his spot each time. Taking the breath out of Lando’s lungs each time. 

This is not fucking. This is just Carlos pushing Lando to his own climax. He doesn't pull out, the thrusts are short and purposeful. Just keep pressing against Lando’s prostate, lighting every nerve in Lando’s body, that it gets almost too painful. And Lando’s cheeks are wet with tears because he’s so hard and he feels so good. He feels like floating and the only thing he can feel is Carlos, so hard and pulsing inside him. All he hears is Carlos’ panting breath in his ear. 

Lando barely registers the way his own erection is pinned against the bed under him, barely gets rubbed against the sheet. It shouldn’t be enough. But he feels himself coming. Feels himself muffled a scream into the sheet. Squirting a pathetic amount of whatever cum still left in his body. And the only confirmation he gets from his own orgasm is when Carlos grunts into his ear from being squeezed by Lando. 

He’s quickly turned around. Legs rested on Carlos’ shoulders. And Carlos is once again inside him. Fucking him in earnest this time. Trying to catch his own climax. Pushing so hard that Lando is almost folded with his knees touching his own shoulders. 

Even in his haze, Lando can’t help to think how gorgeous Carlos is. Eyes blown and dark, his long lashes, his sweat dampened hair, his red lips panting out breath against Lando’s own. And he acts purely on instinct when he reaches and wraps his arm around Carlos’ neck, pulling him closer so Lando can kiss him. 

Carlos is so hungry for him. Biting his lips, sucking on his tongue. So desperate for him. And with only Carlos to hold on to, just the force of Carlos fucking him pushes him agaist the headboard, making it thumping agaist the wall, and the whole bed is creaking from their fucking. Yet, still. The only thing Lando registers is Carlos inside him, his messy kisses brushing against Lando’s lips, his stubble rubbing on his skin. And he just keeps chanting Carlos’ name. When Carlos is thrusting hard into him. When Carlos is telling him that he’s hard. Again. When Carlos is jerking him in time with the roll of his hips. And all Lando can think about is wanting to feel Carlos come inside him. 

He takes Carlos’ face into his hands. Thumbs rubbing gently under Carlos’ eyes, drawing Carlos from his own haze to chase his climax. And starts pressing his lips softly against Carlos’.

“Come. Please--” He chokes as Carlos thrust hard into him. And he instinctively squeezes himself hard around Carlos. “Please. You feel so good, Carlos.” And gets a grunt in return. “Want to feel full...” He can barely utter the words when Carlos’ thrusts get frantic and loses its rhythm. And every thrust is punching the words out of his lungs. “Want to feel full of you.” And he screams. “Carlos!” When he feels himself coming but nothing comes out. Instead, it’s Carlos, with his face buried into the pillow, filling him with his cum. And Lando feels all warm and full. 

He’s just lying there as Carlos keeps rolling his hips lazily, shooting the last of his cum into him. He lets Carlos keep gripping the back of his thighs like his life depends on it. 

Until he finally comes to, and the first thing he does is to kiss Lando. 

“You’re amazing.” He’s peppering Lando’s face with kisses. Spreading warmth in Lando’s chest. “And so pretty.” And Lando has to hold Carlos tighter, because he already feels so light and barely grounded. The compliments will only send him back into his subspace. Especially when he knows Carlos does all this just for him.

Carlos pulls himself out. And Lando whines. Until Carlos gently cups his face and asks if he’s alright, and if he needs anything. But really all Lando wants is just to be held by Carlos. 

“Okay.” And Carlos is holding him. “I’m here.” And he brings Lando with him when he switches their position so Lando is lying on top of him. “I’m here.” Carlos’ fingers running through his sweat slicked hair and the steady beating of his heart soothe him. And Lando feels safe and warm, love and sated. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs against Carlos’ soft skin. 

Carlos shakes his head.  _ “Cariño,  _ you know I enjoy it too.”

It’s true. But he also knows that Carlos knows how insatiable he could be. And one of the only ways to satisfy him is to make him come, multiple times. His face feels warm just from thinking about it that he has to hide it against the crook of Carlos’ neck. And just feels incredibly lucky that he’s with Carlos. 

“Love you.” Again he can only whisper the words into Carlos’ skin. 

And Carlos presses a soft kiss on the crown of his head.  _ “Te amo más.” _

They just lie there, basking in the afterglow for who knows how long. With Carlos’ hand caressing his back, and the gentle kisses. And the warmth he steals from Carlos, Lando is almost lulled into sleep. Until Carlos shakes him gently, telling him to not fall asleep yet. 

“I need to clean you up first.”

Lando wants to protest. But Carlos is already maneuvering him to lie against the pillow before he gets off the bed to fetch a warm towel for Lando. And besides, Lando knows protesting would only provoke a long lecture on hygiene anyway. So he just lies there, watching Carlos --hot and naked-- crossing the room to reach the bathroom.

Then, once he hears the water running, an even better idea comes into his mind. 

“Carlos,” he calls his boyfriend, “run me a bath, please.”

He hears Carlos’ laugh from the other room. Hears the sink tap turned off and the one for the bath turned on. 

“There he is.” Carlos steps out from the bathroom with a grin. “My spoiled brat has returned.” 

“I said ‘please’,” he argues and tries to plaster an innocent smile. But at the same time, can’t deny that he  _ is _ spoiled. 

He’ll ask Carlos to carry him to the bath later. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> uh... my hands slipped?


End file.
